


Unconventional

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: "The first time Bedelia and Hannibal have wine after session."





	Unconventional

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to bedeliainwonderland for the fabulous prompt.

It happens the day he tells her about his sister. He has been her colleague for over a year and her client for nearly a month. Her eyes widen slightly when she hears his voice catch and sees the tears glistening in his eyes. Truly, it is the first time that she believes he has ever told her a semblance of a truth. She is not so naïve to ever expect the entire truth from him.

“What was she like, Hannibal?” she guides gently. He takes in a deep, calming breath, and she can imagine him as a boy; a teenager coping with the loss of his family and culture all at once. Bedelia has learnt more about him in these sessions than she assumes his closest acquaintances know. She isn’t foolish enough to suggest that he has  _friends_. And yet…

Her blue eyes refocus as she hears his smooth baritone.

“Mischa was beautiful, and kind,” he begins, his voice laced with adoration before he pauses again. His eyes are focused on her hair, curled in soft, large ringlets and glistening in the sunlight. Bedelia has a picture of his sister forming in her mind, and she isn’t the least bit surprised that the image her mind conjures bears resemblance to her own reflection. Humans seek patterns, after all.

He is curious to her, and she wants to open him up and reveal his secrets. She relishes in each sliver of information, fueling her ever-changing image of Hannibal and his proclivities.

“Was she weak?” she asks lightly and he visibly startles, eyes blinking rapidly. He clearly hadn’t expected that question, and she has to stop the smile from tugging at her lips. He had come to her for a reason, after all. She wouldn’t let him escape his sessions so easily as his other psychiatrists had. His eyes search hers briefly for answers but come up empty. Bedelia is impenetrable and yet he feels as though she has pierced him so deeply. It would intrigue him if he wasn’t so shocked.

“S-she was only a child,” Hannibal recovers, lacking his usual composure

“So were you,” she counters quickly with a slight tilt of her head. He swallows.

“I was,” he agrees solemnly.

“It is a natural instinct to reject weakness, Hannibal,” she begins smoothly before he cuts her off, regaining his equanimity and lobbing a silver-tongued remark at her.  

“Is that your philosophy as a psychiatrist, Dr. Du Maurier?”

“ _No_ ,” she sighs deeply. “

“Then you have personal beliefs that lend you to destroy weakness?” His voice is smooth, and yet there’s a warmness behind it, like he has just slid a piece of sweet chocolate into his mouth.

“I’m your psychiatrist, Hannibal; you’re not mine,” she replies easily, effectively ending the topic. In her experiences with Hannibal Lecter she has learned that he discourages extensive note-taking and he disallowed rude behavior. Bedelia knew he would not counter her comment, lest he behave unprofessionally. That would come with time, she was sure.  

She meets his eyes and they shine, almost unnaturally, ember flakes glistening. Her head tilts to the side and she finally gets her first glance of the  _real_  Hannibal Lecter. A part of her hindbrain hints that she should be scared, but instead she feels intrigue. His lips tilt into what could be called a smile and she returns his gesture.

Her eyes glance over quickly to the clock.

“It appears as though our time has ended for the day, Hannibal,” she uncrosses her legs and stands smoothly, lightly tugging at her tweed blazer to return it to its rightful position. Hannibal’s motions nearly mirror her own, his hand gliding to re-button his suit jacket.

“Can I interest you in a glass of wine?” she asks innocently.

“Do you offer wine to all of your patients, Dr. Du Maurier?”

“Only the ones I like,  _Dr. Lecter_ ” she lobs back easily, and he can see the sparks of mischief in her eyes.

She does not need to mention that he is technically  _not_  her patient, as they are both aware of the dance they have seemed to enter together.

Bedelia pours a vintage wine into the two waiting glasses and takes her own glass. He raises his slightly, his voice light with levity.

“To new beginnings.”

She takes her drink to his lighthearted toast, an amused smile gracing her lips. Their eyes linger on each other as the warmth of the liquor begins to further heat their bodies. They remain in comfortable silence before Hannibal takes a step closer to her, a hairsbreadth from inappropriate. His voice is smooth, but laced with sensuality.

“I look forward to our next session, Bedelia.”

She closes the small distance between them, another step in their nascent dance.

“Likewise.”


End file.
